


Out Of The Darkness 2 - The Unforgiving Minute

by InsaneLiam



Series: Out Of The Darkness [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Angst, Fanart, Fluff, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, New Year's Eve, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 10:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30121347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneLiam/pseuds/InsaneLiam
Summary: Just as Connor thought the androids' future as well as his own to be finally secure,  his freshly opened detective agency gets thrown into events that could still prevent pending laws from going into effect.Now if only he could find out what his friend is hiding, then maybe he could finally bridge the increasing distance between them...A/N: I recommend reading OOTD part 1 for context!
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & Original Male Character(s), Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Out Of The Darkness [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201385
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: 2021/24/03: For added fanart, go to end of chapter 2.
> 
> Edit 2021/21/03: This story now also has a cover! Look at the rest of the series to take a look!
> 
> As always, this work is not beta read and English is not my native tongue. I will update as fast as I manage writing and adjust tags and rating as I continue. I'd really love to hear any thoughts, ideas or criticism.  
> Keep in mind that this story may or may not develop into a Connor/OC fic, but that I'm not totally sure about that yet.  
> Have an amazing day, folk!

**Time:** 04:45 a.m. December 2nd 2038

**Location:** Detroit

Elliot staggered into the bathroom and over to the mirror, leaning heavily against the sink to keep upright. The face staring back at him looked tired and worn, his cheekbones far more prominent than they should have been. He had been awake for far too long already - he knew that by the dark shadow under his right eye and his pasty skin. But the constant ache in the left side of his head just wouldn't let him sleep. Something was _wrong_. 

Over the past weeks he had lost his appetite nearly entirely and his thoughts felt more fractured and foggy than ever before. He felt weary and used up down to his bones. Suppressing a wince, he moved his weight over to his right arm and tried to shake off the cramps in the flesh part of the left one. Looking more carefully at his mirror image, he could see the normally pale scars around his implant stand out against his skin in starkly inflamed lines. The past month had not been easy on any of them and post traumatic stress and grief did not make any of this easier for him, but deep down he knew that this was not the reason for his momentary state. Worried certainty took hold of his mind. 

_ Something was wrong.  _

This was one of those times where he envied Connor his diagnostic programs - how much easier it would have been to run a simple system check to find out the cause for all of this. 

With an uncomfortable twist of his gut he decided to make an appointment with his old neurologist in Chicago - the only doctor to be aware of his real identity and medical file. 

Carefully he traced the red lines around the implant and hissed at the sudden stinging pain only to fold up his left sleeve to repeat the motion, getting the same result. Low fear settled his chest as a vague suspicion presented itself. He sighed deeply and wiped tangled strands of long brown hair out of his face. Sending a silent prayer into the unknown, he finally turned around to weakly head back to his workshop. 

Another night without any sleep and only his circling thoughts for company.

* * *

**Time** : 6:50 p.m. December 5th 2038

**Location** : Detroit

"Fuck!" His scream echoed in the soundproofed room, followed by a loud 'bang' as his fist crashed into the wall in fury. Tears of helplessness ran down his face as he thought back to Dr. Parker's diagnosis: 

' _ I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but going by these scans, your body appears to be rejecting your implants. There's necrotic tissue slowly building up around the connecting surfaces. There's not much that can be done apart from removing the implants entirely and cutting away the affected areas. Yes, I know how much you may loathe the mere thought, but I have to warn you: As it stands now and keeping in mind the continued heavy use of your implants damaging your tissue and nervous system further, I don't give you more than a few months at the most.' _

Anger and panic clouding his mind, he continued screaming and cursing loudly as he hit the wall over and over until blood ran down his knuckles. After many minutes of incandescent rage he felt his sparse energy wane and with a keening cry he sank to his knees, curled into a trembling ball and hugged himself tightly. He rocked back and forth, quietly whimpering in anguish. 

So that would be his final choice then. To either give up his most treasured parts or die. 

How he wished for the familiar comfort of Connor's arms around him in that moment. But not  _ this Connor.  _ They didn't know each other well enough yet, to have had any reason for such a level of personal interaction. No, he missed  _ his Connor's warm hugs _ and their ability to silence his bouts of anxiety, fiercely. 

Another wave of debilitating sobs shook his body at the bitter reminder of his loss. Not that the android wasn't curious and constantly tried to talk to him about what little he could recall, but how could he tell  _ this  _ Connor about their shared past if the mere thought choked off of any further word with longing and heartbreak? How does one describe the memories of a friend that had been his only guiding light and grounding force in a sea of doubt or the heart-rending knowledge that it had been  _ his own hands  _ that had torn everything asunder? But by far the worst part was the renewed hope of regaining what he had lost, only to slowly realise that with every passing day without progress the probability of Connor ever entirely regaining his memory sank further towards zero. He might as well have shot the android instead of resetting him, for all the good his actions did in the end. He regretted nothing as deeply as the fact that his implementation of an automatic backup mechanism had come far too late. 

And now it appeared he was out of time. He knew that he could never bring himself to remove his implants. As unwanted as they had been at first, they were by now an essential part of his identity. Without them he had nothing. No. Nothing could convince him to give up his last connection to an unreachable past. 

Feeling his headache increase to nearly unbearable levels, he was just about to give up and call Connor to finally tell him about all of this, when his fractured thoughts circled back to the backup system. With a sudden wave of inspiration he sat up straight, staring sightlessly at the wall. Wincing in pain, as his implant went into sudden overdrive, he felt a desperate plan slowly taking shape in his mind. 

_ If less technology wasn't an option, maybe applying more technology would work! _

A weak smile pulled at his lips and his grey eyes gleamed with renewed focus. Thinking carefully, he finally decided to keep his affliction as well as his possible solution to himself for the time being, as he couldn't predict how this  _ new _ Connor might react to this admittedly mad little plan. Better to keep everything close to his chest and possibly ask for forgiveness later. No need to worry the android unnecessarily until everything was in place and he knew for sure if it would work.

With a pained groan he forced his trembling muscles to obey, pushed off the ground and got to his feet. Blinking in his usual fluttering way, he shifted in discomfort as the itching feeling of expanding nanoskin spread not across his implants, but over the flesh around them, so as to hide his increasingly inflamed scars from prying eyes.

No time for further hesitation.

There was work to be done!

* * *

**Time:** unknown

**Location:** unknown

"So, your call means progress, I hope?"

"The first test was a full success."

" _ First  _ test? Listen. I don't have the time for you to run thousands of tests!"

"Not thousands, you philistine! Only a  _ few. _ To make sure everything works as intended, you understand?"

"Fine! But hurry up. You won't like the consequences if you don't deliver."

"Ha. And you won't like the consequences if this fails. So stop the caveman attitude, why don't you? Now, as enriching as this call is, I'll have to get back to work."

"I'd watch my tone, if I were you. Or I might just spill the beans."

"Oh  _ please _ . You like all this ' _ freedom and equality _ ' bullshit as much as I do. Threaten me all you want, but keep in mind, you  _ need  _ me. So keep calm, it won't be long now."

"I hope so. For all our sakes."

"Yes, yes. All hail Amerika or whatever. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

**Time:** unknown

**Location:** unknown

"State your mission."

"My mission is to acquire a sufficient test subject and to execute 'test_sequence_02' upon making successful contact. Completing that, I am to await further orders."

Cold blue eyes stared emptily ahead.

"Good. Now go. And don't disappoint me."

A sharp nod before footsteps faded into the distance. 

He would succeed. After all,  _ he always completed his mission. _


	2. A new year - bargaining for a tour guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is confronted with the idea of his first new year's celebration as a free android.

**Time** : 02:30 p.m. December 31st, 2038

 **Location** : Detroit

Connor had just started watering the collection of potted plants Elliot had bought him as a belated Christmas present, when Hank knocked before leaning hesitantly around the door. 

As Christmas had come closer and closer, he had finally decided that it just wasn't fair for the android to still be kipping on his couch, when there was a free room available. And so, when Connor had gone out one day to help move furniture into their new office, he had fought off his inner demons and renovated Cole's old room-turned-shrine. It had hurt like hell to practically step into his past only to tear down the last remaining pieces of his lost kid, but every time he had faltered, Hank had forcefully turned his mind towards Connor's astonished look at being called 'son'. Upon opening the door on Christmas morning, the android hadn't just been astonished. He had cried, even as his smile practically lit up the house, and had pulled the older man into a tight hug that had lasted for minutes afterwards.

And even though Hank had done all the work himself, he still fought the urge to flinch at seeing Cole's room so utterly changed. 

Where once toys and child sized furniture had cluttered the space so much that the way to the closet had been nearly completely obstructed - never mind even seeing the bed or desk surface - there now lay a practically empty room filled only with a simple bed, Connor's charging cable leading over to it from a wall socket, as well as a small closet and a nearly empty desk. The dancing animals previously decorating the walls had been covered by a cream coloured coat of paint, as well as a single big painting of two vaguely discernable hands on red and blue reaching for each other - courtesy of Markus - and the once bright blue carpet had been replaced with polished hardwood planks. The windowsill and the outer edge of the room were lined by multiple rows of different exotic plants, that all looked healthy and well cared for. 

Shaking his head in fond disbelief at what could best be described as a miniature garden, Hank turned his attention towards Connor who had by now looked up from watering the fragile looking orchid standing on his desk.

"Listen kid, today is new year's and you've never seen a firework before, have ya?" The android nodded, tilting his head questioningly while the LED in his head blinked yellow - probably looking up fireworks and new year's celebrations, if Hank had to guess. "So, I was thinking ya should maybe take the car and head downtown to experience it for yourself, ya know? First new year for all of you free androids will probably be a sight to remember, right?" An intrigued smile pulled at Connor's lips, before a confused frown crossed his face. "That does sound interesting. But what about you?" Hank laughed wryly and leaned against the doorframe. "Me? I will do, what I haven't been able to do in many long years: sitting at home and watching the ball drop on TV." He shook his head ruefully at the android's opening mouth. "Na kid. That's nothing ya can't just as well experience next year, if ya really want. But this? This is _your first_ and you'll only have it once. So go out and have some fun, okay?" Connor looked away thoughtfully for a minute, but finally nodded in agreement and walked over to take the car key from Hank. "If you are certain? Then yes, I will go out and … ' _see what all this bohey is about'."_ He winked and Hank had to chuckle at the android's awkwardly suave air. "You've still gotta work on that, kid! It's a bit out of date - even for me and _that's_ saying something. But nice try." He patted Connor's shoulder fondly before heading back to the living room. "Ha! _Bohey_ \- my ass." He shook his head, still chuckling quietly.

Connor closed his door, silently removing another slang term from his mental list. Looking down at the car keys for multiple long seconds, he felt sight anxiety creep up in his system. 

_How does one celebrate New year's?_

Impulsively he decided to call Elliot for help. Surely another human would know, right?

"Hello Elliot? Listen, I need your help!"

"Hey Con', _life or death?"_ The other man sounded weary and distracted. Connor blinked a few times before hesitantly replying, "No?" A sigh then, after a short pause, " _Alright. Give me two hours. I'm busy at the workshop right now."_ And the call disconnected abruptly. Connor returned to watering his plants, already well used to the other man's non existent manners when distracted by his work.

* * *

**Time** : 4:30 p.m. December 31st, 2038

 **Location** : Detroit

When Connor entered the office of their freshly established private investigation agency exactly two hours later, the blast of ear splitting noise assaulting his authority sensors left him stunned for a second before his system managed to translate it into what appeared to be music. A short internet research brought up the term 'aggro tech' and going by the barely human sounding screams resonating dizzyingly through his skull, Connor could definitely understand where _that_ name stemmed from. 

He hesitantly stepped closer to the open workshop door - obviously the source of the racket - only to see Elliot's thin form bowed over a big, half assembled machine at the far end of the room, a brightly lit welding torch in hand, a corresponding mask covering his face and his right foot tapping absently to the beat of the music. Even though the loud noises grated on his sensoric interface, Connor managed to wait patiently for the man to finish his weld before sending a ping in his direction. Elliot twitched so intensely, that the android almost expected him to drop the still glowing torch. 

After a second the music cut off abruptly, leaving a ringing silence behind, as the human carefully turned off the gas and put his tools away. 

Pulling the mask off his face, Elliott looked over his shoulder in disoriented surprise. "Hello Connor! I'm sorry, time seems to have gotten away from me slightly." He scratched the back of his neck with one white hand and winced while his mouth pulled into a fleeting smile.

Connor smiled back crookedly, waving the matter away. "Hello again, Elliot. What were you working on, if I may ask?" The other man turned around to shut down the terminal running quietly in a corner, shrugging and pointing over his shoulder. "Oh just assembling this thing. You know I don't talk about unfinished work. So," pressing a final key, Eliott turned back around to face Connor while folding the sleeves of his overlarge, green jumper back down so they fell loosely over his long fingers, "you wanted my help with something?" The android followed Elliott's movements with a distracted glance before forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. Hesitantly he summarised his earlier conversation with Hank, ending helplessly with, "- and even after researching online, I still have no idea where to begin."

Grey eyes looked thoughtfully first at Connor and then at the still unfinished machine. Finally Elliot nodded and rubbed his face with a tired sigh. "Seeing as you've already managed to successfully disrupt my work flow for the day … yeah, alright. I'll play tour guide for today. But-" he pointed a warning finger at the already gratefully smiling android, "- _only_ if you in turn leave me to my work tomorrow. No disruptions. No ' _pauses for calorie intake'_ . No ' _necessary hours of human sleep_ '. And lastly: No questions … Agreed?" Connor assessed Elliott's state reluctantly - eternally sleep deprived as well as underweight, his long, brown hair falling in unkempt tangles around his face - and he remembered an old adage saying _'Choose your battles wisely'_ before heaving a sigh of resignation. "Agreed."

Elliot smirked in victorious satisfaction and grabbed his coat. "Wonderful! Shall we?"

* * *

Elliott's mood was decidedly less victorious and more approaching an open sulk, when Connor's hand on his back directed him into a small diner on the outer edge of downtown. "I should have bargained more carefully." He muttered under his breath as the android dragged him along towards the bored looking girl manning the counter. It was Connor's turn to smirk. "Get more sleep and you may even think of that, next time." Elliot folded his arms in front of his chest. "I should have never expanded your senses to include taste. You're much more insistent on food since then. The next time I'm working on you, I think I'll simply turn that back off." The android only chuckled lightly and replied "You wouldn't do that." Elliot sighed in resignation, unfolding his arms and stuffing his cold fingers into the pockets of his coat. "You're right, I wouldn't. But I want my official protest to go on record." Another soft chuckle. "So noted, Dr. Kimble, sir." Elliot shuddered slightly at that form of address, before turning his attention to the waitress who stared at the strange pair in open bafflement. Distastefully eyeing the menu, he finally settled for a simple salad. The girl - Darcy Steward, her name tag stated in bright red letters - only blinked a few times and asked, "Dude, are ya an android?" His shoulders tensed at the rude question and he replied only with a clipped, "No. _My order_ , please." Still staring at Elliot's plainly visible implant, it took her a few minutes to finally head back to work on his salad. 

Not remotely caring about his tone or volume, Elliot snarked, "And _this_ is one of the reasons why I prefer takeout by delivery drone." Hastily paying for his meal and a cup of tea, he marched over to a booth as far away from the counter as he could find. Sniffing in distaste, Elliot poked around in his salad bowl, where even the big serving of french dressing couldn't hide the pityful state of the included vegetables. Connor looked for an adequate topic to pull the human pack to the present. Hearing faint notes of a radio playing in the distance, he finally asked, "What made you choose that ... _music_ in particular?" His hesitation at calling the grating racket _music_ must have been too obvious, because Elliot smirked around a fork full of salad. "It has exactly the right tempo and rhythm necessary for a good weld." He took a sip of his tea, mouth pulling tight in disgust before he focused back on their conversation. "Also it serves rather well as white noise and quietens my thoughts." Taking another small sip of his tea, Eliot swallowed heavily and pushed the still mostly full cup away. "This really can't be called tea! Not even under the loosest definition of the word. That tastes more like burned grass extinguished by pond water." Curiously Connor picked up the discarded cup and tried a small sip only to spit it back out in disgust as the bitter flavour of overheated tea leaves assaulted his taste sensors, followed by a notification of his analytics. Under Elliot's chuckles he pushed the cup towards the opposite end of the table. "The similarities are undeniable and the foreign human saliva does not improve anything. I guess, miss Steward did not approve of being compared to a delivery drone. Or of falling short in that comparison." Elliot threw a disgruntled glance over his shoulder, his eyes sharp in contempt. 

Connor returned to their previous topic after throwing a prompting glance at Elliott's hovering fork. "What other kinds of music do you listen to?" Eyeing a thin slice of tomato suspiciously, Elliot shrugged. "Progressive mostly. Whatever grabs my attention, really. What about you?" Connor thought back to Hank's record collection. "I have only listened to black metal and jazz up to now. Both are fascinatingly energetic in their own way, but I can't say whether I prefer one over the other." Elliot's gaze seemed focused on a point far in the distance and his crooked smile could best be described as 'nostalgic' and Connor knew that nothing could get the engineer to divulge anything further. 

These moments appeared to occur with increasing frequency over the past weeks: Their conversations would turn to one topic or another and at some point Elliot would just ' _tune out'_ \- for a lack of a better term - but refuse to explain _why_ , leaving Connor with the uncomfortable feeling of having missed an obvious cue. 

After long minutes of thoughtful silence Elliot set his fork down and pushed his still half full bowl away, utterly ignoring his friend's disapproving stare. Seemingly shaking off his distracting thoughts, the human abruptly changed the topic. "Now, when you researched new year's celebrations, what in particular drew your interest?" Connor sighed in resignation before turning the question over in his head. "The articles I've read made it sound as if typically huge crowds of people proceed to gather in the streets around midnight to watch the fireworks and celebrate the end of another year with big quantities of alcohol. Hank was right, it would be interesting to observe how the android community decided to celebrate and how the humans react. But …" He trailed off helplessly and Elliot's grey eyes softened in sympathy. "Crowds in general and androids in particular?" Connor nodded bashfully, tracing the worn grooves in the table top with one fingernail. "I get where you are coming from, Con'. I'm not one for large crowds either, remember?" The android relaxed at those words combined with that strangely familiar moniker. 

Elliot looked into the distance and tilted his head in thought, rubbing his forehead and absently pulling his coin out and flipping it between graceful fingers. 

After a minute of silence, his eyes lit up. "We could take a walk down the riverside park. If we time it right, we can see New Jericho across the river without heading over there, while also watching the fireworks." Connor smiled gratefully. "That sounds like an excellent idea." Elliot eyed his abandoned salad one last time with heavy disdain before pocketing his coin and getting to his feet. "Then let's see if I can't manage to find some interesting spots for our walk." Side by side the duo headed back to the car.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art was made with artbreeder, faceapp and photoshop.


	3. A new year - joined hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Elliot continue their stroll through downtown Detroit...

Soon afterwards human and android had begun their leisurely stroll through the riverside park. Even the weather was on their side and though it was freezing, the late afternoon sun still hung low in the clear sky, bathing everything in its golden glow. 

Connor, who had decided to turn off his still rather new temperature sensitivity only days after its implementation, after being reminded of those traumatising last seconds in his old Zen-garden one too many times, now glanced curiously at Elliot. 

The young man - in stark contrast to every other pedestrian crossing their path - appeared to enjoy the low temperatures immensely, even as he buried his long fingers deep in his coat pockets. He had paused along the river embankment and leaned against the railing, his gaze trained on the slowly progressing sunset and his stance for once utterly relaxed. 

The androids eyes trailed subconsciously along loose shoulders and a slim back, silently marveling over all the contradictions and surprises this delicate human seemed capable of. 

Beaten down repeatedly by life, but still unbroken he managed to carry an untold amount of mental burdens without ever letting on that anything was amiss while at the same time appearing utterly incapable of dealing with the usual day to day grind without getting lost in the twists and turns of his ever circling thoughts. So, seeing the man as unencumbered as right now was a rare treat that Connor carefully added to his mental database. It was a relief to see the faint lines of stress around his right eye finally lessen, even if only for a short while, and the constant worry assaulting the android's system calmed down a fraction. 

He leaned onto the railing and followed Elliott's gaze towards the shifting colours painting the evening sky.

The familiar sight brought the fractured memory of Elliot pointing at just such a view back to his mind and the man in question seemed to have guessed the direction of his thoughts, because another nostalgic smile pulled at his lips. 

"I've never told you why I like sunsets so much, have I?" Connor shook his head. "That is actually an interesting side effect of my implant - or more specifically my artificial left eye - you see, as advanced as this piece if technology is, it still can't compare to a real human eye. There always remains a slight pixelation effect and colour distortion to go along with it. So when my mind is running too fast for me to keep up with, I look at a sunset and focus both eyes on a point where the colours shift from one to the next." He pointed upwards, just like Connor remembered him doing before, "The contrast between the resulting images generated by both eyes is … calming." 

He huffed in amusement. "It also helps me fine tune my visual sensors. But we'll see how long that ability lasts." At Connor's curious glance he paused for a second before shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't get any younger and technically I already need reading glasses if I don't want to get a headache." 

"You're not old! You're only 31. Even considering you looking at terminal screens all day, your sight won't worsen for a few years yet." 

Elliot shifted from one foot to the other before admitting, "Technically, I'm only 30. My aunt changed my birthdate to obfuscate my identity." 

Connor checked his internal database and felt another puzzle piece click into place. "August 14th! But that was -" 

"- the day my mum died. Yes. Aunt Am' thought it to be poetic, I guess." Elliot smirked wryly at the android's surprised look. 

"When is your real birthday, then? I have to admit that in all my previous investigations it never occurred to me to look it up." 

"January 25th, 2008. And to circle back to your earlier comment, the brain damage and resulting coma left it's marks in more ways than the obvious. So yes, my remaining eyesight worsens faster than it normally should. And I get migraines from time to time. But let's keep going, shall we?" 

They continued their walk and Elliot began expanding on the origin of new year's celebrations in human history while Connor listened with rapt attention. 

After a few hours they changed their course slightly and circled around towards downtown, watching the celebrating crowds of humans surrounding the many clubs and bars like visitors would have watched animals in a zoo. 

Catching sight of a cheerfully chatting group of Tracy models on the other side of the road waving at them, Elliot smiled before turning to his friend. "I can understand not being comfortable in crowds, but what makes you dislike the other deviants so much?" 

Connor shifted in discomfort. "I don't dislike them! I just … after all the things CyberLife made me do, I don't feel like I belong with them. I know Markus said that most don't blame me, but …" 

"... you think they should? Blame you, I mean." 

The android nodded, eyes focused on his feet and LED blinking yellow. "I'm not  _ like  _ them. Not really. They all seem so sure about what they want and who they  _ are.  _ To be honest, they tend to confuse me more than most humans ever could." 

Elliot nodded in understanding. "I know exactly what you mean. Only with me it's the other way around." Seeing Connor's confused gaze, he expanded, "I told you that I was sent to a private school for the gifted, after aunt Am' took me in. And many of them  _ were  _ gifted. But just as many just had wealthy parents with good connections. Imagine groups of stuck up teenagers with airs of grandeur in the midst of puberty," he huffed bitterly, "and then there was me. The awkward, gangly loner that was buried up to his ears in so much research to not even notice his own hormones, nevermind having the wherewithal to act on them. So, yeah. Other humans always remained a mystery to me. Now androids and deviants,  _ those _ I get." 

He shrugged, looking away and admitting bashfully. "I envy you guys. Not being bound by my malfunctioning human body would have been a dream come true." Connor reached out impulsively to grab Elliott's arm, drawing him to a stop. "But then you never would have managed to work at CyberLife undetected, or to create all those sensoric updates … and maybe I wouldn't even exist. I-" he paused, before dropping his gaze. 

"I  _ like _ you just the way you are. Human - imperfections and all." 

Not daring to check Elliott's reaction, he continued walking and completely missed the other man's painfully vulnerable look following after him, as well as the whispered "...  _ Thank you, Con'." _

* * *

As time crept ever closer towards midnight, the duo returned to the park area near Bell Isle to watch the fireworks. 

Anticipation tingled across Connor's circuits. Back to his previous position leaning on the railing next to the river, Eliott looked over his shoulder at his impatiently pacing figure. 

"Oh, by the way, fireworks usually mean the sound of loud explosions. So you might want to be prepared for that." 

Connor nodded in thanks and turned down his volume sensitivity. Glancing over towards New Jericho, he noticed masses of androids slowly filling the plaza surrounding the nearly rebuilt tower. 

Loud music played in the background but couldn't cover the laughter and chattering of so many people. And even though the gate across the bridge remained closed, a large gathering of humans appeared to have set up camp to celebrate with their new neighbours. 

As the last minutes before midnight ticked down, a low chant began to sound from the human side of the bridge, getting louder and louder, as more humans picked up on what turned out to be an achingly familiar song.

' _ Hold on, just a little while longer! Hold on just a little while…' _

* * *

"Markus, you can't open those gates! What if things escalate?! It'll be a riot!" North stood with folded arms next to the gate house, barring her friend's way. 

"And I keep telling you, it won't escalate! We are all here to celebrate. We should use this opportunity to reach out to them! Keeping to ourselves will only hurt us in the long run!" 

"Bullshit! A rioting wave of drunk humans is a much bigger threat right now! I-" Markus held up his hand to cut off North's rant. 

"Shh! What is that?" 

"What are you-" again Markus waved her to silence.

"No, no. Can't you hear that?"

' _ Hold on, just a little while longer! Hold on …' _

Both androids blinked in momentary confusion, before Markus' eyes lit up in wonder. "They're singing!" He laughed joyfully, grabbing his friends shoulders tightly. "North! Listen! The humans are  _ singing _ !" 

Slowly more and more androids stopped their chattering and turned towards the closed gate.

While North remained frozen in incomprehension and shock, Markus nodded in determination, passed by her and entered the guard house.

* * *

Connor and Elliot watched in open astonishment as the music cut off and the mass of humans got even more enthusiastic, forming a sudden choir all across the bridge, only to be joined by hundreds of androids, nearly sounding like one voice screaming into the night.

_ 'Hold on, just a little while longer! Hold on just a little while…' _

Slowly the song spread from the bridge all the way to the roads leading towards the rest of the city, more and more voices joining in until it seemed like all of Detroit was singing at once. 

Connor hadn't thought that any music could contain so much hope. His systems ran in overdrive and his breathing routine had stopped. All of his attention was focused on this once-in-a-lifetime event. 

He felt Elliot grasping his hand and held on tightly, trying not to get swept away by a powerful wave of emotions. 

Wonder. 

Joy. 

Gratefulness.

' _ Hold on, just a little while longer! Hold on …' _

The gate separating humans and androids suddenly lowered, opening the way for both to finally join in celebration. 

Staring at each other in wonder, androids and humans continued their song. 

A hesitant gap remained where the gate had been, until a single form stepped calmly forward. 

Markus, hands open and smiling brightly, sang, while grasping the open palm of a grinning girl waving at him from the front row of the mass of humans.

As if on a silent signal, both groups stepped carefully closer, until they finally seemed to merge into one, no longer any real difference or distance between them.

And mingling together, they sang, like a joint prayer screaming up into the night sky - humans and androids all sharing one defiant hope - and Connor felt tears slowly leak down his face.

' _ Hold on, just a little while longer! Hold on just a little while. Hold on just a little while longer! Everything will be alright! …' _

And as the song slowly faded, sudden fireworks began to light up the night. 

Open-mouthed in wonder and still gripping Elliot's hand as if his life depended on it, he watched wave upon wave of colourful sparks illuminate the sky. 

Cheering sounded across the city and screams of ' _ Happy new year'  _ could be heard all around them.

Laughing joyfully, as the hope in his core finally bubbled over, Connor pulled Elliot into a tight hug. 

"Happy new year, Con'!" Was shouted into his ear as they spun on the spot. 

"Happy new year, Elliot!" 

Grinning like fools, the duo drew apart and turned back towards the awe inspiring fireworks. 

Yes. It would be a happy new year. 

The road to get here had been long and paved with many sacrifices, but all of them - humans and androids - were certain in this one moment, that however hard the road may still prove to be,  _ everything would be alright... _


	4. Biweekly meetings and botanical gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank head out for Connor's biweekly meeting with Markus.

**Time** : 02:30 p.m. January 1st, 2039

**Location** : 8941 Lafayette Avenue, Detroit

Standing in front of the rather opulent Manfred mansion, Connor shifted from side to side in hesitation. Beside him, Hank huffed in fond amusement, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Are ya planning to ring the bell any time soon, or do ya just like the engravings on the door so much?"

The android chuckled bashfully and hastily pressed the doorbell, before he could change his mind.

The door opened a minute later, Markus' friendly smile greeting them as he waved them inside with paint speckled hands.

"Hello Connor, Mr Anderson, please come inside. It's lovely to see you both. Happy new year, by the way. I hope both of you had a good time last night?" He led them through the entrance hall and into the giant, empty living room.

Hank couldn't keep his mouth from gaping at the impressive sight and had to blink a few times before he managed a coherent answer. "Oh, hello Markus. It was alright, all things considered.. Yours must have been a real blast though, from what Connor told me."

Markus' eyebrows lifted as he stopped and turned towards Connor. "So you  _ were there _ last night! And I was about to ask what kept you away!" 

The android had remained silent thus far, as he looked at his surroundings in pure awe. Finally managing to look away from the well tended garden, visible through the high windows, and noticing the other's expectant stare, he replayed the previous conversation in his mind before shifting hesitantly. "Yes, I was there. But I preferred … a vantage point less crowded by people."

Markus' eyes lit up in excitement. "What did you think? Wasn't that a powerful moment?"

Connor smiled in remembrance. "Powerful. Yes, that describes it rather well. I'm glad things turned out well."

Markus only laughed giddily and spun in a tight circle, arms spread wide. "I never even dared to expect that much support! Oh, it was marvelous! All that joy and hope shared by humans and androids alike! … I've been trying to paint it all day."

After a few seconds he finally seemed to regain his earlier composure and cleared his throat with a bashful grin. "Speaking of painting, the others are in the studio. Follow me, please. Ah, but where are my manners today?" Turning towards Hank, he asked, "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee, please."

"Coming right up."

The large door leading into the studio slid open before them as they approached and Connor promptly lost track of any conversation again, as his eyes were drawn straight to the large glass walls enclosing the high room and the magnificent garden beyond.

Hank just huffed in fond annoyance. "Aaand he's gone again," he glanced at Markus and the other two occupants of the studio, "you'll have to excuse the kid for a few minutes. Drawn towards greenery like a moth to a flame, that one is."

Markus chuckled in surprise. "Well, I'm glad that he finally found something of beauty to be interested in. I admit, I have been worried about his … continued adapting to deviancy." Shaking his head he waved his arm in the direction of the other two. An old man sat in a wheelchair by the windows facing an android with dark skin. Between them stood a chess table. Both looked up from their current game and towards the newcomers in interest. 

"If I may introduce my father Carl Manfred and my friend Josh. Carl, Josh, meet Connor and Hank Anderson."

At the mention of his name, Connor finally snapped back to the present, smiling awkwardly. "Hello, Mr. Manfred. I'm glad to finally meet you. You have a beautiful home, if I may say so."

"Hello Connor. Thank you. Please, won't you pull up a seat?" Carl smiled and waved a hand at a stack of folding chairs standing in a far corner.

Just after both visitors had sat down, a small beeping sound announced the arrival of a small household drone carrying a tray filled with two coffee cups as well as a bowl of sugar and a small can of milk. It hovered stationary in the air between them, giving both older men the chance to prepare their cups to their liking, before returning to the kitchen.

Noticing Connor's awkward shifting at the continued silence, Hank set his cup down after his first sip. "Mr Manfred, First let me thank you for your generous help with financing our new agency."

"Oh, think nothing further of it. That really was no bother. I consider it money well spent."

Hank remained insistent. "No. Really, thank you. We couldn't have done it without your help."

"We all do the best we can to keep the peace. But be that as it may, you are of course welcome. Anything that helps Markus in accomplishing his goals is." He chuckled. "I wouldn't be averse to seeing the results, though. If you have any pictures, that is." 

Connor sent a few images from his memories to Hank's phone with a fluttering blink and a yellow circling LED. Hank drew the vibrating phone from his pocket and - seeing the collection of pictures - handed the device over to Carl.

"Oh, very nice indeed! Who thought of the design?"

"Erm, I did." Connor ducked his head and ruffled his hair unconsciously. "I thought it … appropriate."

His words earned him a satisfied smile. "Then you have my compliments. I'm rather enamored with older styles myself, as you may have noticed. There is a certain flair to it, that just can't be recreated by anything else - wouldn't you agree?" Carl handed the phone back to Hank. "Very well done. I wish all of you the best of luck." Connor and Hank nodded in thanks.

Markus stopped painting and used the ensuing pause to comment, "Speaking of  _ all of you _ , where is Mr. Kimble? As far as I remember, he is a part of this venture as well, isn't he?"

Connor nodded. "He is, but he had a previous commitment and couldn't attend today."

Hank snorted. " _ Commitment _ . Sure. He's roped you into letting him work today, hasn't he?"

Connor sighed in muted annoyance. " _ Yes _ , Hank. Thank you. I was trying to be polite." Before he had the chance to apologise to their hosts, Markus intervened.

"Well, seeing as his work keeps revolutionising many androids' quality of life, I think his absence may be excused. The sooner all androids have access to his sensory upgrades, the better. Don't you agree?" All of them - even Hank - nodded in agreement at that.

"Considering parliament's plans to vote on the final law draft at the end of January, this actually strengthens our position." Markus shrugged at the curious glances thrown in his direction. "There are still opposing voices remaining. Not many, but all the louder for it. So, the more androids are comparable to humans, the better our chances will be."

"Opposing voices?" Connor frowned in worry. "Anything concrete?"

Markus shook his head unconcerned, while Josh's face showed his open disagreement. "Nah, not really. Just the military - half panicking, half unwilling to give up their hold on their fresh batch of android soldiers, if you ask me." He waved away the issue and turned back to his canvas. "With CyberLife finally disbanded and the public's opinion so obviously in our favour, there's not much they can do anyway."

Josh appeared to think about responding, but decided against it at the last second, only shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Noticing the slightly tense atmosphere, Carl sat up straighter in his wheelchair. "Enough talk about politics, now. It only ruins the mood." He turned back to Hank and Connor. "Tell me, have you had any interesting cases, yet?"

Both shook their heads and Hank expanded, "Seeing as we've only opened a day before Christmas, there hasn't been anything worthwhile so far. Only a few mails of ranting idiots ' _ wanting help finding their runaway property' _ \- not worth our time."

Carl chuckled at that. "Now I'm in a pickle! Do I wish you good luck in finding worthwhile cases soon, or do I hope that things remain as calm as they appear right now?"

Hank and Connor smiled at that, but before they could respond, Josh's voice drew their attention. "Actually, as far as I know, you may get a case soon," He ducked his head at Markus' surprised glance and continued, "North and Simon have been debating asking you for help."

"What? Why didn't they say something to me? If anything is wrong, I should know about it."

Josh shifted in discomfort and lifted his hands to calm his friend. "You have your hands full in Washington, Markus. Let them handle Detroit. And before you can try needling me, I don't know anything anyway." He turned back around to Hank and Connor. "I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up."

When Markus and Josh became distracted by a quiet argument over sharing work versus keeping secrets, that promised to go on for a long time yet, Hank and Connor shared a glance and got to their feet.

"Well, that looks like it might take a while. We'll leave ya to it, then. Thanks again for your help and for the coffee." Hank shook Carl's frail hand and waved towards the door. "We'll find our way out. No need to trouble yourself."

Connor threw one last wistful glance over his shoulder towards the garden, before quietly following his friend.

* * *

**Time** : 03:15 p.m. January 1st, 2039

**Location** : 8941 Lafayette Avenue, Detroit

Leaning back in the driver's seat, Hank drummed his fingers against the steering wheel for a few seconds, before he pulled out his phone and began typing a short message. Hitting send, he turned his attention towards the curiously watching Connor.

"Seeing as we might get our first case in the next few days, shall we go grab Sumo and spend the rest of today at the botanical garden?"

Connor beamed in excitement and fidgeted in his seat. "That sounds like an excellent idea! Thank you, Hank." Looking towards the phone now laying on the dashboard though, he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "If you don't mind the question, to whom did you write?"

Hank shrugged nonchalantly while starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. "I wrote Elliot. Told him to get his ass outside in half an hour, so we can pick him up."

Connor's head turned sharply around at that. "I already told you that I had an agreement with him, so he could remain working today! I'll readily admit that I may not like his terms, but a promise is a promise." 

Hank ignored his disapproving stare with an ease that spoke of habit and only smirked, holding up a hand. "Wait a second, I don't wanna repeat myself -" just then his phone started ringing " - ah, there it is!"

He grinned while accepting the call and turning the speaker function on.

"Hello, Elliot! How are you doing today?"

" _ Anderson! I'm sure Connor informed you of the agreement we had reached yesterday. So, what the hell makes you think that I'd trade my valuable time for this nonsense?" _

His grin remained undimmed and even gained a decidedly mischievous edge at the other man's incensed greeting. 

"Three reasons, kid." He counted them off with one hand. "One: Your agreement was with Connor, not with me. Two: We may get a new case tomorrow that'll probably fill up our timetable for the foreseeable future, so this is our last chance to relax for a bit. And three: I know for a fact that a certain android right here next to me is a big fan of exotic plants and has never actually seen a botanical garden before." He interjected an overly sad tone into his voice. "And you wouldn't dare rob him of the chance to see one with all of us now, would you?"

Tense silence filled the driving car, until a disgruntled sigh crackled through the tiny speakers. " _ Do you want to know something interesting, Anderson? There are days when I really rather … dislike you,"  _ Elliot sounded, as if he was pressing each syllable out between heavily clenched teeth, " _ but fine. Give me half an hour. And I repeat: Half an hour, no minute less. Agreed?" _

"Yeah, yeah. I knew you'd see things my way, kid. Be outside when I drive up, or I'll drag your ass out, whether you're ready or not." He disconnected the call before Elliot could get another word in edgewise.

Connor looked in open astonishment between the phone and Hank's self satisfied smirk. "How did you do that?"

"Child's play, really. That guy would lay the world at your feet to make ya happy. So, mentioning any activity you've never experienced before was a safe bet." He chuckled and shook his head at Connor's uncomprehending stare. "Son, you are just helplessly oblivious sometimes - ya know that? But when I consider just  _ who _ programmed your nifty little ' _ social adaptability module' _ , I'm not at all surprised, actually."

And even prolonged questioning from Connor couldn't get him to expand on the subject any further than to comment "Oh no, you'll have to figure  _ that one _ out by yourself, kid."

* * *

**Time** : 04:10 p.m. January 1st, 2039

**Location** : Botanical garden, Detroit

Elliot walked slowly through one of the large conservatories, dragging his feet and keeping a bit of distance to his companions. He watched Connor's excited chattering and Anderson's fond smiles while his large dog roamed a few feet ahead, a twist of jealousy tightening painfully in his chest. Seeing both so at ease in each others company only served to underline how unneeded he had become. Once upon a time, that place at Connor's side would have been his. Back when he and Connor had been on the same wavelength. He tried to shake off this train of thought, tried to appreciate the happy air surrounding his best friend, but couldn't stop his mouth from twisting in slight bitterness. Noticing Anderson's too sharp eyes drift in his direction, he hastily drew up a neutral mask to cover his troubled thoughts. There was no sense in making the man, who had claimed the place of Connor's father, any more suspicious than he already seemed to be.

He was lucky that as far as he was aware the older man had kept his opinion to himself so far. Both of them had come to a silent agreement over the course of their acquaintance. They would grudgingly tolerate the other's presence and keep their dislike to themselves - for Connor's sake if nothing else.

But jealousy was a hardy seed that - once planted - had spread its roots deeply through his mind.

Elliot couldn't stop a wistful glance at Connor's back. He longed to recapture their past chemistry. His memories of their shared understanding and the always apparent feeling of connection and belonging had slowly turned into festering wounds in the back of his mind, the emotional pain seamlessly intertwining with the near constant aching of his weakening body.

His thoughts turned back to his unfinished work, and he could feel time running away like grains of sand between his fingers. He traced the coin in his pocket, trying to keep the urge to fidget under control, even as his other hand tapped a continuous beat against his leg. 

Something must have drawn Anderson's attention, because he slowed his pace to let Elliot catch up while Connor was distracted by some kind of fern a few steps away.

"Ya could at least pretend to enjoy being here."

Sudden indignation burned through him and his reply was sharper than he meant it to be, "You don't know what you are talking about, Anderson."

A nonchalant shrug. "Maybe, maybe not. But what I do know is that you've been antsy for the entire time we've been here. You're lucky that Connor is occupied, or I would bet that even  _ he  _ would have noticed." A rough hand patted his shoulder, reminding him of his own father and making him shift in discomfort. "Now pull yourself together, kid." As resentful as he was, he dutifully nodded and pulled a shallow smile onto his face. And not a second too soon as right then Connor's voice called out to them.

"Oh, how marvelous! You have to see this!" With a shared sigh of fond resignation, both men jogged over to the android kneeling in a patch of dirt.

He shifted a few fern leaves aside and pointed at a fragile plant now visible, careful to keep Sumo from getting too close.

"Do you see this? That is a  _ paphiopedilum urbanianum _ , commonly known as urban's orchid. Once it could be found on Mindoro Island in the Philippines, before deforestation and poaching caused its near extinction. Scientists estimate fewer than 50 remaining plants worldwide …"

He cheerfully continued his monologue on rare orchids, eyes alight with happiness.

Elliot made a silent note to try and aquire such a plant for Connor's next birthday, only to stop short as he remembered that the android might not even know when that was anymore. Then he was reminded that he might not even live long enough to see that day come and had to blink a few times to keep the moisture gathering in his right eye at bay.

Thinking back to Anderson's words, he widened his smile, determined to make his possibly last weeks with Connor the happiest he could manage. Should his plans fail, those memories might be the only thing left of him for the android and he knew how important that might be one day.

He glanced over at Anderson, resentment burning in the back of his mind. That man may dislike him and his work obsessed attitude all he wanted, but he had no idea just how hard he had worked to make sure he stayed in Connor's life. Nobody could understand the sheer desperation driving his every choice.

It was a difficult balance, to keep working undetected, while not alienating his friend. This eternal back and forth was pulling his already stained mind in too many directions. If he continued like this, he would ultimately lose both - his life and Connor's friendship. He had to choose one. That realisation left him thoughtfully silent for the next minutes, as the trio continued their walk.

He did not like the thought of making Connor unhappy. Even imagining those brown eyes wide in uncomprehending pain sent waves of regret through his mind.

But - he determined suddenly, his heart heavy - whatever hurt he might cause now, could be made up for later, when he was sure he had the necessary time to do so.

So decided, Elliot stopped on the spot.

Layering a careful mixture of boredom and distraction into his tone, he proclaimed, "As engaging as you may find this … pursuit of eccentric plant life, I have work to get back to. If you'll excuse me, I will head back to the workshop now." 

He ignored Anderson's distainful huff as well as Connor's surprised exclamations and turned to head straight for the exit, engaging his implant to call for a taxi. Careful to keep the sudden painful spike burning through his brain from showing outwards, he kept walking and did not look back. 

He could hear Connor's distressed voice arguing with Anderson in the background.

"What? Elliot?! Wait! Hank, let me-"

"Let the kid go, son. If he'd rather work than spend some time with ya, that's his mistake."

_ I'm sorry Con' but I have to do this  _ \- was his last regretful thought before the bright evening sun greeted him outside.


	5. Ruminations and promotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor thinks about Elliot's abrupt departure and Gavin Reed gets promoted.

**Time** : 03:13 a.m. January 2nd, 2039

**Location** : 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit

Connor lay sprawled out over his bed, clad in a newly acquired set of pyjamas covered in playing cartoon dogs and staring listlessly up at the reflections of the streetlights visible against the dark ceiling. Even the familiar motion of his coin between his fingers couldn't calm his circling thoughts. 

He was hurt by Elliot's abrupt departure earlier. Work. It always came back to his never ending work. He may even have understood his reasoning, if the man would just explain what exactly it was he was working on so frantically.

But every time Connor had had the courage to ask, he had been fobbed off with increasingly annoyed references to  _ 'unfinished projects' _ . This seeming distance irked - curiosity and worry chasing each other in never ending circles through Connor's mind.

He had noticed Elliot's short attention span and weight loss as well as his erratic mood swings, and yet could do nothing to help.

He was at his wits end and had even contemplated asking Chloe for help, but somehow still hesitated. While the female android may know the reasons for Elliot's strange behaviour, he would definitely not like him involving a third party to go over his head - paranoid as he was.

Hank was of no real help in this matter either as Connor was quite aware of the other man's protective instincts where he was concerned and knew that involving him would only lead to renewed conflicts between both men. 

Deciding that for right now he was utterly helpless to change anything, Connor ruffled his hair in frustration. What good were his top of the line processors if he couldn't even help his friend?

A blinking  _ 'low energy levels' _ pop-up at the edge of his internal display drew his attention and he sighed before wearily dropping one arm over the edge of his bed to fish for the charging cable. 

Maybe standby and its accompanying defragmentation would help him think of something else?

With this desperate hope prominent in his mind, Connor started his charging cycle.

* * *

**Time** : unknown

**Location** : unknown

He watched in detached curiosity as his creator attended to the test subject.

Its frantic motions were kept to a minimum by the steel shackles forcing bare arms and legs to the metal table. The white plastic chassis gleamed under the bright overhead light, as the figure writhed and screamed.

His creator frowned and opened a port in its neck only to cut a single cable with practised movements. The screams fell abruptly silent.

"Test 7 was a partial success but the test subject managed to overcome the program parameters, nearly resulting in a critical failure. The underlying cause has yet to be determined."

**# Software instability ^**

Something in his mind trembled fearfully at his creator's disappointed tone, only to fall silent a mere second later.

**# Software instability corrected.**

"I will begin the system analysis now."

A terminal mounted to the operating table beeped quietly and the test subject's struggles turned into uncoordinated writhing as thirium began leaking from its eyes and nose. A second beep and the test subject sagged motionlessly to the table.

**# Software instability ^**

He was aware that the analysis had overwhelmed the test subject's system, utterly frying the fragile circuits in the process. There would be no repair. It was …  _ dead. _

Something strange caused him to clench his fists subconsciously.

**# Software instability corrected.**

Shaking his head, he unclenched his hands and focused back on his creator.

"Analysis complete. Let's see what we have here." A pause, then an intrigued chuckle. "Oh, Elliot. What a naughty boy you have been! Still hanging on to that senseless little project, and getting in my way while doing so, aren't you?"

The tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Then a frustrated scream.

"Argh! Even unaware, you still remain the same thorn in my side you always were!"

His creator turned on the spot to focus on him, causing him to snap to attention sharply.

"Go dispose of the trash, while I try to fix this mess!" 

He nodded once and jumped into action, loosening the shackles and carrying his burden towards the incinerator in the corner. Behind him, he could hear his creator's mumbled words. "Just you wait, Elliot. I'll show you … Just. You. Wait."

* * *

**Time** : 08:35 a.m. January 3rd, 2039

**Location** : DPD main precinct, Detroit

The bullpen was once more a beehive of activity, the missing androids by now largely replaced with fresh officers from the academy. 

Gavin Reed eyed the mostly unfamiliar faces with careful attention, trying to memorize their faces and names for future reference. 

He had to stop this side project as his pounding head reminded him of the lack of sleep that had accumulated over the course of the previous weeks. 

He took a gulp of coffee from his nearly empty cup and thought back to his last investigation. Months of interrogating back alley dealers and weeks of draining stakeouts had finally led to a breakthrough. 

Yesterday a team under his command had successfully raided the main lab of one of Detroit's most prolific red ice rings. If this wasn't enough to get him his anticipated promotion to Lieutenant, when even Miller and Chen had been promoted already, he'd have a frank talk with the Captain. 

Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he stood up to head into the break room. As he fumbled with the controls of the sightly temperamental coffee machine, he noted a familiar figure leaving the Captain's office.

The man was of average height, clad in a well fitting suit and his blond hair gleamed brightly under the artificial lights. He would have guessed him to be FBI, but his gait and posture wasn't self-confident enough to fit that role. 

The man had come and gone regularly over the past week, always heading straight for Fowler's office.

Still mulling over this mystery, he heaped spoon after spoon full of sugar into his cup. Taking a sip, he sighed in satisfaction.

A sudden call of his name made him turn around.

Fowler stood on top of the stairs leading up to his office and waved him over before heading back inside.

Butterflies seemed to fill his chest as he walked out of the break room, his cup of coffee completely forgotten. 

Finally! This was it! This was his chance to prove all his heckling coworkers wrong. 

He was aware of his bad reputation. Reed the street kid. Reed the rugged orphan. Rude, ambitious, short tempered and primed to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. 

But he wore those descriptors - and the resulting scars and bruises - like badges of honour. He knew he was good, knew that he had what it took to go far in this line of work. He had started all the way at the bottom of the food chain and fought his way up with every sinew in his body. 

He knew the streets and back alleys of Detroit like the back of his hand, knew all the gangs and big sharks out for blood. For a large part of his youth, he had been a runner for exactly those people, whom he now hunted as a part of red ice investigations. As a poor kid roughing it out in the hard parts of town, he had seen all the horrible things humans were capable of, had seen how little help the local police offered folk like him. And he had sworn to change that. 

And now that those damned tin cans were finally gone, there was nothing preventing him from rising to the top. The thought of those bad copies of human ingenuity - that fucking  _ Connor  _ chief among them - put a frown onto his face, even as something at his core trembled in fearful remembrance. He knew with bone chilling certainty, that those cold machines would replace them all sooner or later - starting at the bottom, starting with people like him. 

Who would help his kindred then? Who would look out for the poor? Those who had no choice but to live in eternal shades of grey? Those damned binary brains would only see black and white - law abiding and criminal - never the desperate nuances in between.

He forced his mind back to the present with a deep breath, as he closed the glass door behind himself.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Ah, Reed!" Fowler waved him over with a smile. "Take a seat, Sergeant - or should I say Lieutenant?"

Nothing could have stopped the fierce grin from lighting up his face at those words. Buzzing with excitement, he took a seat in front of Fowler's desk and collected his updated badge from the other man.

"Yes, we were all very impressed by your last case. That kind of work ethic and sharp intuition is just what we desperately need right now." Every word flowed like warm caramel through his mind - the sweet taste of victory heady enough to utterly distract him from the other man's thoughtful gaze.

"But we need you in a department other than red ice, Lieutenant."

He blinked a few times, before the meaning finally became clear. "You want to reassign me?"

A weary nod. "Indeed. From now on, you will work in homicide and head the investigation of crimes concerning androids-"

"No way! You've got to be  _ phucking _ kidding me!" His lisp audible, he cursed loudly enough that a few heads outside turned in curiosity.

"Shut up and listen, Reed!" Fowler's barked order was sharp enough to make Gavin draw back in his seat. 

Taking a deep breath, the Captain lowered his voice. "Now, as I was saying, android related crime has been on the rise over the past weeks. You can imagine the fallout if any of this goes public. With Hank gone, we desperately need our best people on those cases." 

The reminder of Anderson only deepened Gavin's frown. 

The old lieutenant had once been a role model - youngest Lieutenant on the force, fighting his way from a poor family to the top of the DPD in record time. His picture in the papers had been the initial driving force behind Gavin's own ambitions. 

And then  _ the accident _ had turned everything around. Anderson, the shining star Gavin had hoped to work with and learn from one day, had disappeared into depression and alcohol, leaving only an empty shell behind. He had never really forgiven him for that disappointment.

And after years of hard work trying and failing to pull the man from his hole, one stupid android had done the impossible in the span of a few weeks, only to promptly turn around and cause the other man's dismissal from the force. Everything those fucking tin cans touched, turned inevitably to shit.

"Oi! Reed!" The snapping of fingers in front of his face pulled him back to the present. "I know you don't like this. But I don't have the time for your usual drama right now, are we clear?!"

Gavin was about to open his mouth in renewed protest, only to be stopped by Fowler's fist pounding on his desk. "If we don't get this sorted soon, we could have open revolts in the streets! Do you really want that?!" Taken aback by the fierce shout, he only shook his head. 

Fowler seemed to calm down at his lack of continued arguing, rubbing his tired face with both hands. "Good. Now, you'll be partnered with Detective Miller. The case files should already be accessible for you."

He nodded and - taking those words as dismissal - he jumped to his feet to leave the office. 

"Oh, and Reed," The Captain's voice caused him to turn around once more, "I know about your opinion on androids. So try to see this as a test: Don't fuck this up and I'll give you homicide in its entirety. I'll be keeping an eye out, understood?"

Clenching his teeth to keep from shouting further profanities, Gavin only nodded sharply before storming out, past the curious stares of his coworkers. 

Maybe a few cigarettes would calm him down enough, to not scream in frustration at the first person to cross his path.


End file.
